You, you, you oughta know.

It's hard to like his music because I don't like him on principle. And I think he has a bad singing voice. But we had to listen to the song so many times that I started to notice something about it. The music. There was something about it. The instruments, the way they fit together, and the way the song grew and built. It was music. It was like a tide--ebbing and flowing and I couldn't help but feel that when we were dancing. It was penetrating. Permeating. Inundating. Intoxicating.

"Do you miss jazz band?" She asked. "Yes." I immediately answered. "I miss it a lot. And you don't get opportunities like that anymore." "Yeah." She said. I need my saxophone.

I neeeeed it.

I need someone to sit there for about twenty minutes playing blues while I empty my brain out. God, I need it. I need to play music with somebody. I feel like I'm dying. Like I'm suffocating. Like I'm fucking drowning. I won't do rap music, I won't do punk music, and I won't do country. I'm a jazz musician, damn it. I need to play some jazz.

Comments

jonathanbarcelo said…

To the musicplaying thing.. . .

yes, please

-Jonathan

October 28, 2009 at 3:56 PM

Side effects include constant irritability, being an ass.

It was a typical day in MUS 307 . A typical day where nobody pays attention to anything the professor talks about. A day where people play shitty flash games instead of take notes. A day where people sit and refresh their Facebook newsfeed instead of follow the slides. A day where people roll their eyes and go to sleep instead of listen to the music examples. A day where people get up and leave ten minutes before lecture ends instead of having the God damn decency to stay the whole time and pretend to be interested. I mean, if you're going to be so unaffected by the music we're studying in class then why the fuck did you take the class in the first place? Fuck it makes me mad. And I haven't even started talking about that fucker who sits in the back and tries to whistle along with every song that gets played in class. Alright, dude, we get it: you are just too cool and you know everything about jazz, ever. You know every standard ever written and everybody's so...

No, Holmes, no!

All I ever think about these days is how much I have to/want to study. I hope that's not how I have a good time, now. Would I rather go hang out with peeps or would I rather sit in and study? It is a difficult question to answer. Just a couple more days and then I can focus all my energy on the next greatest idea I've ever had: iconic detectives and sharks.

So, I mean, there's that.

So I went to church again. I slept through most of it but I woke up to hear this: "Oh Lord you are holy indeed. You are a fountain of holiness." Dang, I thought. That is pretty holy. I saw The Nightmare Before Christmas again recently. That is still one of my favorite movies. I never get tired of watching it for some reason. I remember the first time I saw it quite clearly. I was about 5 years old at the time, I think. My dad and I were in the Albertson's video store looking for something to watch as was our Friday night custom. I walked through the aisle, glossing over the scary movies as quickly as I could without looking like I was scared. My dad pulled me aside with a video in hand. "What do you think about this one?" He held up a cover with a skeleton on the cover and 'nightmare' in the title. "It doesn't look very good." I said nonchalantly. "It looks lame." I rolled my eyes and turned away, playing it cool....

everything is fine

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